


Some nights resemble a bad habit

by TotemundTabu



Series: 30 THROBB SMUTS [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dom Robb Stark, M/M, Mentions of other ships, Past Abuse Mention, Sub Theon Greyjoy, Top Robb Stark, a tad bit vanilla but it's valentine, mentions of past relationships - Freeform, ramsay exists basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9721589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: Valentine fic - THROBB - 1/30 THROBB SMUTS |  He stares in those bluest eyes and the boy stares back, he lingers, enchanted or tempted, for a long while, before lowering his eyes, letting them escape the trap and focus on a little girl, chestnut hair, desperate for his attention. Their eyes met and they never really left.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theonlyparadiseisparadiselost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlyparadiseisparadiselost/gifts).



**#14 – Restless**

 

* * *

 

 

**Some nights resemble a bad habit**

 

* * *

 

1.

 

_Those nights spent among thighs and mosquitoes and fog and clubs you could call friends._

_Some nights you have some wound that one of your girlfriends is going to disinfect._

_Some nights when the bars are closed someone will celebrate at the first motorway bar._

 

Their eyes met there on a night between the smell of extinguished smokes and Johnny Walker.

He – his name was Robb, but Theon didn't know yet – had the bluest eyes he ever fucking saw, so blue they looked like the sky broke down and bled out loud.

He was surrounded by people laughing and patting their backs, a joke after the other, boys and girls around his age, drunk on happiness more than anything else.

Theon, he was keeping a smoke between his fingers and sucking it dead, red burning itself away.

One of the two girls whispered in his ear her usual please, eager like a child, now that she discovered someone who'd actually eat her out to the arrival line and not just for the tease, the other complains, her boobs pressed against his arm.

He stares in those bluest eyes and the boy stares back, he lingers, enchanted or tempted, for a long while, before lowering his eyes, letting them escape the trap and focus on a little girl, chestnut hair, desperate for his attention.

Their eyes met and they never really left.

And as the girls asked to go, Theon would order a bit more to drink.

The boy glanced at him sometimes, furtively, almost scared, like a deer wondering if that wolf will eat it.

His hair was as red as a furious kiss. 

And it reminded Theon of the auburn aftertaste of autumn that stays on the tongue a tad bit too long, when the sweat and the seasalt of summer have long left your skin but you're not ready for winter.

Kyra whined again, holding his crotch, and he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, making her moan in delight. He opened his eyes, to see the boy lower his eyes again, panicking, then turning, in a feverish, hybrid feeling of hope and lust.

 

He wanted him too, didn't he?

 

*

 

They met again: Robb with the same set of friends, same chestnut girl with her arms on his chest – Theon with another girl, blond as ashes and with an obscene mouth. He grabbed her tight by the waist and spent the night with their mouths melted and their breaths as one.

Robb could feel his stomach die and clench and burn.

He couldn't stop turning and watching and somehow it felt as if that show was for him and him alone. More for him than the girl even.

His hands went on her hips and then down, where the table hid them, she opened her legs. The music muted out her words but Robb didn't need subtitles for those quivering red lips.

It was when his dark, night eyes fell on him as magnets, stubborn and unmovable, that Robb shivered.

He was looking at him, Robb was sure. Intently.

Robb blinked, left his group to chat and rushed to the counter to speak to the bartender, fidgeting nervously on the brown wooden surface, “...Mario, do you know him?”

The man kept cleaning the counter between them, glanced at both Robb and Theon and then shook his head profoundly.

“Bad news.”

“Oh c'mon. - Robb laughed, looking at him, head to toes, his voice getting hoarse in a chocked feverish whisper – He is cute.”

Mario rolled his eyes, “Theon is what we call a  _sciupafemmine_ , don't even try.”

“A what?”, Robb frowned.

Mario sighed, moved his hands exasperated and half yelled, “A  _puttaniere_ ! Like Casanova, you know? - he imitates a kiss on the hand and then a couple hip thrusts – You got it, hm?”

Robb looked wounded, discouraged almost, but his hand didn't leave the wood.

He swallowed up and looked again at the scene.

Theon was still looking at him, while making out with the girl.

Mario groaned, “Why do you guys never listen?”

The blond girl's hand went on Theon's face and she opened her eyes, feeling something was up, and surprising him, staring at the boy at the bar. She separated abruptly and slammed her fingers on his face, moving away.

He lit a cigarette, shrugging.

Robb looked at him, blinking, worried.

He grinned, smirked and winked. Wicked, warm.

Robb's cheeks and ears took the color of his hair.

 

*

 

The third time, Robb's dark haired friend decided they had to sing at the bar karaoke for the utter displeasure of Mario and his already threatened patience. Theon found it endearingly pathetic: those clean little boys, getting drunk on beer and laughing at life, couples holding each other tenderly... it was ridiculous.

Sex was a scent, a taste, teeth and nails and tongue and hunger.

Sex was not soft rubs under a soft light saying soft words. That farce was almost sickening.

Oh, but that boy.

Fucking bluest eyes boy.

That would have been an incredible fuck.

And Theon couldn't stop looking at him, this time, he didn't bring anyone, he was alone, smoking at his usual table. When it came Robb's turn to sing, Theon could swear the boy looked at him, before letting out the most liqueurous, dense voice.

Theon breathed smoke and fire in. The cigarette’s scorching border burns his fingers and drops from them onto the table.

He grabbed another, just with a curse word.

He needed something in his mouth. He needed... he wanted something to suck on right then, to suck dry.

Robb held the microphone tighter and, as he moved, at first shyly, then getting more and more into the song, his voice also came out darker, stronger, denser. It felt like tar, it tasted like honey.

Theon contemplated the way his hips moved and his smile shone, the way his mouth opened...

His hair may have been autumn, but that skin and that flesh was pure summer.

He sung Bruce Springsteen and let the notes ride his tongue and shiver down his spine, and Theon can't stop thinking he’s truly a sight.

He glanced up at Mario as he brought him another Aviation.

“...who's that one?”

Mario glanced up, then groaned, “Who this time?”

“The one singing Human Touch. - he grinned, biting his bottom lip, unable to stop staring – He sure is cute...”

“Theon. - Mario glared at him, protective – No. Robb is a good kid.”

Theon grinned, then winked.

“I'm not gonna eat him up.”

“That's exactly what you're gonna do.”

“Bring him that thing you do... a blue angel.”

Mario blinked, raising his eyebrows, “A blue angel?”

Theon seemed smug, cocky even, but he couldn't take his eyes off that boy.

“... he has blue eyes.”, he mumbled out, trying to smirk.

And Mario shook his head, because the night always drugs kids up with daring eagerness.

When Robb came to his seat and found the drink, he grinned and raised his eyes. Theon smirked, winked.

And then Robb dared: a tilt of the head, a hit with the hips, pointing at his right, and then in that direction he went to the male toilet.

Theon's smug lips grew sharper, he finished his glowing Marlboro up and licked his lips, heading to the bathroom.

He opened the door just to find him with the back against the sink and a shy smile dressed up in lewd hope. Theon pushed him against the wall, raising him up so he'd sit on the sink, and sank his tongue in that hot mouth, leaving all the breath behind. Smouldering, scorching flames of silk to pass his fingers through, tender flesh of lamb to sink his hands in, wetted drenched moans higher with every minute – Robb was all to devour, all for him to take.

He grabbed him by the hips and smiled against it, Robb bit the lips and pushed deep too, invading Theon's mouth, with his surprise and not unblissful awe.

Their sweat smelled like smoke and their mouths like foolishness.

And they kiss like the other is water and they gulp down the taste of the frenzy and the sparks of each other's groans.

And when Theon's hand went on Robb's jeans button, the redhead took it away and kissed him on the lips, this time quickly and moved down from the sink. He winked, opened the bathroom door and returned to his friends.

Theon shook his head, smirking, mouth open – speechless and intrigued.

 

*

 

And the time after, Robb is alone. His jeans are skinnier, his little stubble taken care of.

And the time after, Theon is alone, again, and his lips are soft as they brush against Robb's ear.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

Robb turned and laughed, “Don't you even offer me a drink?”

Theon smirked, leaning on the counter, “Tonight it closes early, didn't you know?”

“I did. - Robb admitted – I took a leap of faith.”

“Bold guess. - Theon seemed impressed – I like it.”

Robb breathed in, unsure.

Oh, it felt like so much.

Theon was so much: he was black and white and grey, he was leather and silk and cigarettes, he was the scent of sex and the rawness of a look.

His hands were thin and long, bony, veins riding them purple like dead winter trees against the sky. His neck was always covered in the hickeys and bruises left from some new girl or boy. 

His eyes looked greedy like a lion about to banquet on your flesh.

And Robb never was keen to risking too much, before meeting someone like that, who'd feel intoxicating and magnetic just with one look. Maybe it was just the thrill of the night.

“Where will you bring me?”

“The car decides. - Theon winked, biting his bottom lip in desire – We let her be.”

Robb shook his head, rolling his eyes and following him. 

And the night is slow and fast, and it runs ferociously and viciously it lingers. And the car brought them to the cold beach with black waves shaken by the wind, and he exited the door laughing and suggesting a bath, but Theon threw him against the sand, let him sink against the frozen gold and kissed him mad.

He drowned in those lips and Robb let him drown, welcomed him in his moaning cave and let him be.

And they buried Marlboros in the sand and Robb's bitten lips burnt against the sea salt water when they took that swim, clutched up like ravelled up squids, tied up in their own legs and kisses.

And Robb was the salt and Theon was the water.

Their skins brittled and glimmered under the drunk moonlight.

Theon's hair was wet and Robb passed his hands still through it and pulled him closer, kissing him as if the night was sand to get lost and run away from their fingers.

He kissed his neck, as an invitation, a proposal, a holy lustful suggestion.

Theon put his hands on his hips, clenched the Iliac crest, caressed the Venus' dimples, ran his fingers on him like he had touched something too fragile to be stained and too sinful not to be devoured.

“Are you going to run away again?”

Robb laughed, closed his eyes and kissed Theon again.

And Theon felt awake, as if he were for the first time, set alight.

Fire shimmered and shivered into his veins as he held Robb tighter, as if he were almost afraid of him to slip away.

Robb's voice turned hoarse, “I'm not sure I could.”

Theon smirked, kissing him again. His eyes closed, he didn't know.

“You can't escape the night.”

“Be the night, then.”, Robb pleaded and ordered, getting drunk another time on the warmth of those soft lips.

 

*

 

Robb smiled against the kiss, keeping Theon over him, thirstily drinking his smirk turning into a quivered moan.

The seat of the car was soft and dirty, but Robb couldn't feel much of it: Theon burning against his skin was all he could feel, the way he bit down into his neck, the way he gripped his hips so mean.

And Robb traced the lines of Theon's ribs, held his hair and sucked onto the softness of his neck, licking the collarbones, sticking out.

Theon pulled Robb's jeans’ buttons open, this time with no hesitation and Robb almost laughed at how eager he looked, frowning and with his jaw clenched tense in desire.

“How do you want to do this, blue eyes?”

“I want you. - Robb chuckled – I'm not sure the rest matters much.”

Theon seemed unsure if being amused, aroused or flattered. He nodded and unzipped his own pants, freeing his own erection.

Robb swallowed, at first unsure, then pulled down his trousers and raised his arms to put them on Theon's shoulders, sinking his nails into the skin and tracing red trenches as he welcomes his movements, rubbing their shafts together, moving over him with the softness of the night and the urgency of foolishness. Theon would grab both their cocks and jerk the shaft, up and down, faster and faster, making Robb scream in delight, moans crushing against the windows, riding the steam of their breaths blurring them. 

Robb bucketed his hips against Theon's hand, bit his neck and sucked his heartbeat, leaving behind purple and arousal. 

Theon's hand went faster and faster, his thumb from time to time teasing their heads, rubbing their tips where naked flesh begged the raw night for relief and their cocks dripped dew of pleasure.

Robb screamed, coming into Theon's hand.

He liked it with a grin, before finishing himself off, aiming at Robb's panting red face and shooting it pearl.

 

*

 

Robb slammed Theon against the wall and lowered himself down, slowly, going to his groin. 

The night was brewing heat and crickets sang; they were surrounded by the shimmering stars and the good smell of the gasoline from the service station. They could hear just beyond the wall, people talking about the road to do or the trips to make, sharing a coffee in a plastic cup.

Theon never had much against sex in public, but he never did it with a man and, suddenly, the idea of being caught got much more dangerous and with that thrilling in a sick way. He couldn't find in himself a way to stop Robb or convince him not to.

Robb placed small, slow, kisses on his stomach, courting the button and the lines of the abdomen with his tongue, jolting like a snake on hot sands.

He moaned, greedy beyond the line of vulgarity and kissed Theon's jeans, opening them and then sucking his cock through the thin fabric of the black boxers. The elating feeling of seeing him getting engorged and swollen against the constricting blue and begging him for release burned Robb's veins. His hard erection pressing painfully against the fabric prison too.

The way Theon's cock twitched under his mouth, as if he were electricity, that was a drug.

He could feel it, getting harder, pulsing, throbbing under his mouth as he sucked.

Theon muffled his moans pressing the back of his hand against his mouth and using the other to push Robb's face against him, gaining a grunt of bliss. Robb pulled down the boxers, with Theon's fingers rolling and pulling his curls, and buried his face in the dark hair and hardened meat, he took him in his mouth, all at once, like a starving jackal or the last needy whore.

And Theon let out his name, drenched boiling moans and grunts, and Robb keeps him, licking, lapping, courting him with that tongue, jolting it on its sensitive pink head, sucking its taste and letting it spill and drop down his throat like promised ambrosia.

He caressed Theon's shivering thighs, as they squirm in sweat and afterglow, and he kisses them, sucks the soft flesh and breathes in that scent of all the time he lost being without them.

“...you're good.”, Theon comments, voice dry from desire.

Robb smiled against the thigh before licking Theon's balls and base, enjoying the delightful shot of electricity that ran through him and made him ready again.

This time Robb held his cock tight with his hand, while sucking it, moving his head up and down, locking their eyes together and staring directly at Theon, as he'd turn harder and darker in need. Theon was bewitched, mesmerized.

He never saw eyes so blue burning so deep.

He panted, “Do you want to fuck?”

Robb slowly moved away, letting the swollen throbbing cock slip out of his mouth, then nodded. He seemed unsure, maybe panicking.

“Car?”, he asked. 

Theon nodded and gave him a hand to help him stand up.

“What's up?”

“What should be up?”, he half-laughed nervously.

Theon grabbed him by the waist and filled his mouth to the edge with his tongue, tasting himself too. Robb's erection brushed against his leg, tense as an arrow and hard as a bone. Theon rode his fingers down his spine, bringing him close.

“Can I fuck you too?”, Robb asked and Theon grinned wide, nodding.

Robb caught his mouth in his own.

His lips tasted like the moonlight.

 

*

 

Theon's hand brushed his curls slowly, absent-mindedly.

Robb's fingers danced on the declining hill of his hips, tenderly slow.

And the radio let out some old song about a cinnamon girl, the air outside was still and fresh blue, stained by the scent of sea and gasoline.

Robb blinked slowly as if he were afraid of Theon disappearing in the fog, melting in the night, restless and lustful, where the only lights left were artificial lamplights appearing and disappearing in roads rushed through.

Theon's smirk was tilted, lopsided with malice.

“You're the night...”, Robb whispered.

“You're a weird kid.”, Theon chuckled, hiding away his face, rushed with a certain anew embarrassment.

Robb's fingers passed to his jaw, tracing its lines, brushing like a painter, the drop of the Adam's apple and the line that would melt in the shoulders, his veins and nerves.

Robb would contemplate them as one would something beautiful.

And Theon is not sure he can understand anything like that.

He just drinks people. He chugs them, swallows them, lets them go and pass. Quick and hard.

Contemplation brings thoughts and thoughts bring fears he can't afford.

He turned, pullled Robb closer and kissed him voraciously, sliding upon him, then standing over him and asking, directly in his eyes, scorching like oil dropping from the lamps of hell.

“Shouldn't you touch something else?”, he laughed, taking Robb's hand and placing it on his cock.

Before Robb could reply properly, Theon started rubbing himself against Robb's crotch, tempting and convincing as only a siren would have been.

And Robb, Robb was nowhere near deaf.

He grabbed Theon's hips, sinking his thumbs and leaving bruises on the soft pale skin. He started bucketing and rubbing too, his shaft returning hard against Theon's soft flesh, craving again attention and needing release all together.

Theon's lips widened in a cocky smile, “Has your horse dick been ridden often?”

 

* * *

 

 

2.

 

_Some nights you feel like a master of a place that during the day does not exist._

_Some nights if you are lucky you knock at the door of someone like you._

_There is the night holding you between it's breast, like a mother, like a whore._

_Those nights that are to make love until it hurts, as long as there is anything left._

 

They don't speak for a week after.

Robb rushed for the whole week to Mario’s almost like an eager child, almost desperate almost happy and crushed all together; Theon didn't come once, and lost as the smile when Robb saw the night arrive at its end empty.

He missed him.

And he knew he shouldn't have.

Because he was a taste-test and night meals mean very little to one who loves to eat.

But the ruckus and the drumming in his heart echoed all a bit too loud and just ever so terrible, annihilating as the weight of void.

But some nights, some nights taste like the goodness of a bad habit that brings you home.

And some nights instead just kill you a bit deeper than you should have let them.

Robb sighed at the ninth night, standing up – Jon asking him what was up – until he saw Theon entering, cigarette in his mouth and a smug smile.

Robb smiled, ready to walk to him.

Kyra came and pinched Theon's ass from behind, he grinned and held her waist.

“Always a pleasure to see you coming.”, he kissed her hand.

She snorted, “Jerk!”.

Robb blinked a couple of times, a little smile rising on his lips just to vanish away. He felt weak and moved away, Jon staring at him questioning.

 

*

 

When a new Friday came, Jeyne put a hand on Robb's, smiling.

And she looks like spring bloomed white and pearl.

But Robb could only lower his look, with an awkward smile, move the hand away and glance up at the usual table. He could see Theon talking to a woman maybe twenty years older, big beautiful lips and long curved legs.

She looked like she was drawn.

Robb looked at himself and sighed.

Theon turned off the cigarette and left the table, heading up.

Robb blinked, seeing him right in front of him.

He wanted to be angry, at first, to hide a weird happiness, but he could see Theon had a hard time talking, shame riding his glance and his cocky grin all a bit fakely strong.

“Blue eyes.”

Robb's lips bent in a smile, but he raised his eyebrows as to claim the pleasure of being searched for.

“Night?”, he called him back.

Theon seemed almost amused at that smug look back and licked his lips, sucking them slightly.  
“Wanna go for a ride?”

And Robb grinned and stood up, between the confused looks from his friends: Jeyne shook her head as to ask herself how didn't she know, Jon seemed plainly disgusted at his taste.

And this time, Theon brought him to a place Robb is not sure if it's a home or one of those apartments people keep as studios, but it's a mess of smokes and gin bottles and the carpet is old and bordeaux and ruined. Robb sat on the sofa: the caramel color is worn off at the sides, and it smelled like too many women and lived too many nights. 

“Do you want something to drink?”, Theon asked, looking almost embarrassed.

Robb blinked, “Do you live here?”

“Yup. - he shrugged his shoulders but it was clear it was not the apartment of his wildest nor tamest dreams – That's what I can afford for now.”

Robb looked around then, smiled shyly, “It's not like I live in luxury, I share a two room with my cousin.”

Theon' eyes had a funny gleam.

“The one who looked at me like I was a walking trashcan?”

Robb opened his mouth but then shut up and lowered his head, admitting, “Yeah, that's him. - he smiled – He is just protective.”

“Am I someone to be protected from?”

Robb snorted, “Definitively!”

Theon sat next to Robb, caressed his hand, rubbed his thigh, “How mean.”

Robb raised his eyebrows and smiled, “Well, you don't look like the posterboy of reliability.”

“I'm reliably unreliable.”

He smiled and looked beautiful. He spilled moonlight, dew and sex from a look.

Robb moved forward, grasping his lips, then he moved his hand on him, slowly, unbuttoning the shirt from the bottom, touching his stomach, his tight body, the riding drawn bones.

And Robb knew his fingers must have felt banal, and perhaps cold, while Theon's sin under his hands burned like glowing embers.

And he pressed their bodies against each other and Theon smirked against their lips, moving his hands to Robb's zip and pulling it down, before lowering his head on him.

Robb chocked a moan and swallowed up the scent of the moon.

 

*

 

He woke up on the caramel sofa, Theon next to him, their legs entwined, their bodies now cold – as they lay naked and shivers gleam with the low light. 

He contemplates the way Theon's wrists are bony and hard and how his veins twist around his arm, his hair ruffled from sex, his breath like a child's.

Robb sits up, looking for a glass of water in a room so blue it felt like a dream or a migraine.

The moon was high, liquid against the glass, soft inside the unmoved waves.

Theon rolled a bit, almost sudden in his extreme slowness, and his head is against Robb’s chest. Robb didn't know he was humming, he didn't even notice, and kept brushing sweetly that hair with his fingers.

He couldn't remember of one day or one instant in which he had that happiness, that sense off ridiculous fullness, given by a slow regular breath and two pouty soft lips, slightly pressed against his naked chest.

He sang, low-voiced, to him. He was not sure when Human Touch melted away into I'm on Fire or when his mind suggested, instead, Tougher Than the Rest. He was not sure when lust became obsession and when that became wishing.

It kind of all happened at once, with the sad look Theon had and how he sometimes used sex just to distract him, if things could get hurtful or honest.

Or maybe, maybe it was the way Theon moved, with the sublime boldness of the ocean waves and the elegant rawness of thunders breaking. Maybe it was his charm, maybe his vulgarity, maybe all the shades in between.

Theon whined, woken up by the humming, rubbed against the skin, complaining.

“Let me sleep...”

“Sorry.”, Robb almost jumped, startled.

Theon mumbled something, hiding his face. His hands, though, were gripping onto Robb tightly and stubbornly.

Robb smiled, “Why did you come back for me?”

“ – I felt we were a bit alike.”

Robb couldn't see how.

But it didn't matter at all right then – Theon let him sleep there, that night.

 

*

 

And love should be kind and patient and not proud and – well, it didn't seem so.

To Robb, love was an unkind man with constantly ruffled hair and a mostly an ill mood, too cocky and too much into sex for any kind of biblical reference.

But that, to him, was beautiful.

There was grace in Theon's passion and in his moons. There was some youthful, fresh, addicting sweetness in his lewdness and his lack of direction.

They spent their nights sharing a little sofa bed they rarely felt like opening and making their blood light in inebriating joy and hunger for life.

They sipped each other's heartbeat off their necks, leaving purple constellations behind. They traced their backs with nails and teeth, biting into flesh to break it, when their holes were being torn up. Or, or when each to the other they would tear a new hole in the chest, right behind the lungs, then their kisses would be deeper and sloppier and angrier.

Hunger for the other would be blinding, tiring in the times in which time felt ready to burst and end, drugging as the intense taste of the kisses took over every self-conservation instinct they should have had for their crooked souls.

It was never enough.

It was never sufficient.

Robb would exit him and Theon would pull him closer, down, in, again; Theon would fall on his back and Robb would find his way on him – it was a  _need_ . 

Like air or water, but for the fever, for the sticky honeyed sensation of their sweaty skins rubbing together as their pulsing arousal would empty themselves once again, melting on the skin and staining the sheets.

Robb threw himself on Theon again, trapping him against the mattress, letting him wrap him with his arms and legs. He would take him, cup his jaw in his hands and push his tongue into him, domineering, craving the taste of his shattered needy moans against him.

Oh, how sweet it was to make him weak.

Him, who looked like a god of sex and death, now was a melting, slutty mess, under him.

Robb poured some lube, unnecessary probably, but he'd rather overdo than underdo, and pushed then his fingers in – two, then three, making Theon's eyes roll to the ceiling – and he arched them, moving inside, searching for the spark to set Theon's whole spine alight..

He'd get drunk, wickedly so, at how Theon would wither and squirm as he'd mess with his prostate, hitting it, then rubbing it, then courting it with circular motions, then tormenting it with flicking quick jolts, then pressing on it. Theon would arch and squirm and shout and bend and, oh, beg.

He'd beg desperately, tongue hanging out of the mouth, eyes dewy with desire, his ass twinging and twitching against his knuckles, swallowing up his fingers and hoping for more of them to push through.

Theon came again, with a little brief waterfall of sticky white, and smiled wide, pulling Robb closer by the hips, then welcoming him in in one thrust.

And how did it open him.

He'd widen him, pull his walls, make them so tense and needy and ready to be torn apart. 

Robb's cock would widen Theon blissfully, forcing his raw flesh to make space for him and taking it all in thrusts quick and strong, faster each time and each time rougher. Theon almost scooted down from the sofa, when Robb pulled him closer, grabbing him by the waist, and keeping him there, just fucking keeping him, pressing Theon against his cock, thrusting back balls-deep – Theon chocked up screams, trying in vain to let out only deep, growled grunts, while his voice would high-pitch and drench when Robb would slam into his ass, as deep as one could be.

Theon trembled, shivered, winced in pain and bliss all the same, over and over, at every single fucking slam Robb would give – he could feel the fire set to his spine, he could feel himself shook to the core by pleasure.

He arched his back and head, scratching Robb's back – making him feel so huge, his skin torn apart as revenge for that ass he was breaking – and letting his name unravel a thousand times from his mouth.

Robb came into him, thrusting again and making Theon come too in a whimpered scream.

Theon could feel his insides glimmer in the afterglow, the oversensitive skin ready to burn again even just at Robb rubbing it to exit, the air stinging against his asscheeks, red with slams. It hurt divinely.

He was about to complain jokingly when Robb placed a hand on his side and flipped him with the easiness one flips a coin, then covering his spine in quick kisses, while his newly hardened shaft pressed again against Theon's entrance.

Theon tried to object, in vain.

He feared for his own good, but as he felt Robb's head and its girth taking space inside him again, he'd just meowl in need and welcome him, once again. 

Robb pulled his hair like they were a leash and sank harder and rougher, hitting the prostate and making Theon's legs weak at the first hit and then continuing, making his bones goo, his ass red with spanks, his voice lewd and shameless.

Robb came again, with a growl, almost like a wolf, pulling Theon like a bitch and making him smile, obscene and wasted, as he burst again in a climax, ready to be lead into another.

 

*

 

“You're a jerk.” Robb remarked as Theon chuckled, bitterly, extinguishing the cigarette on the sofa. “Didn't you know already?”

 

Robb stared at him, wounded, betrayed, somehow heartbroken – but why would he have put his heart in those hands if not out of a wish to have it torn and shattered?

“Why don't you want me to see your drawings? - he insisted, pouring his heart out on his sleeve, once again – They are great, you should go to the academy.”

Theon snorted.

He found Robb's blind faith in chances so tiringly pathetic.

“As if.”, he sighed out.

Robb held the notebook and refused to give up, he frowned and stubbornly shouted.

“You'd be great. These clothes look amazing. - his voice trembled for a moment and then he found strength again in his own honesty – Why don't you want to go to the academy of fashion and design or something? You'd be great.”

Theon glared.

And Robb knew if he could he would have burned him and his shitty curiosity to the ground, no traces left.

“It's ridiculous.”

“That's not an answer!”, Robb insisted.

Theon flipped, standing up and shouting, “Oh, for fucks sake, stop trying to help anyone just to feel morally good.”

“What? No, Theon, I believe in-”

“Shut up. - Theon imitated a zip closing and grasped a coat to exit the house – I'm not going to listen to this crappy leftover recycled motivational talk.”

Robb wanted to say something but he let the words drown and rot inside his throat.

That night Theon didn't return home.

 

*

 

It almost hurt how good they mixed, crashing like waves of the sea, symmetry pumping their blood to their heads with furious voracity. Bliss haunts them down, taunts them well, seduces them and sinks inside so deep they would crave more of it, addicted to one another like the most ridiculous strays.

Longing and pleasure stole away the night from their grabbing weak hands and their panting lips.

Hours passed and felt like seconds between them as if nothing could ever truly feel better than the other.

Robb came into Theon's mouth, jolting, as Theon pressed inside him, sending nails of pleasure through his skin. He stained his lips and filled his tongue and Theon lapped him, still unwilling to exit his ass.

Robb sighed, “I miss you when we're not together.”

“I know you do.”

“Don't you too?”

Robb's voice rang almost desperate, sad, and maybe that's what pushed Theon towards hurting him more – he was no good with vulnerability, he had no idea what to do with it, being it his own or the one of others, his father only ever taught him to ignore it or make fun of it and be a man.

He shrugged his shoulders and Robb lowered his head, clenching his hands together, as to give himself some courage.

“I want it to be serious.”

Theon almost snorted, moved away, cleaning his face with the back of his hand.

“Oh god, you are a cute one, bl-”

“Don't blue eyes me when we are being serious. - Robb warned him, serious, crossing his hands – You can't charm this away.”

“I actually... would hope to.”, Then admitted, in a sadness nobody caught upon.

Robb frowned, confused, “What would be so bad... about being serious with me?”

And Theon stared at Robb and then looked at himself. He didn't know how the answer could have been more obvious. How they had to go further, to survive ourselves.

He shrugged, feeling dirty and yet wanting to shake all of those uncomfortable feelings away from him once and for all.

“Because I am the night. - he poked Robb cheeks, forcing himself to smile – And you, I'm not even sure what you actually are.”

But you shake me a bit too much and make me a bit too human, he'd like to add, in his head, and oh how would I avoid you if I could? But you tied me up.

Robb frowned, confused, unable to elaborate. His chest felt ready to burst in tears, his body so weak all of a sudden.

And some nights kill you just a tad bit too much.

“... I just thought that... perhaps...”

Theon shook his head, “You thought too much. It's just sex.”

Was it?

Did it matter?

Theon ran away quickly, cleaning up after himself in a rushed rain of sighs.

That night was suddenly as cold as a summer that turns to winter without a warning.

 

*

 

Mario sighed, glaring at both of them with a certain wise rancorous look as to say “I warned you both, neither of you listened”.

And there they were, at the usual bar, the one where by then they'd drink something before or after fucks. They'd share angry looks, between all the fake smiles reserved for friends or dates – the only honesty they had was for each other and it was rancorous ad weak and brimming in desire they were not sure what to do with.

And now it was just ice and days: without nights, without fevers, without love.

 

* * *

 

 

3.

 

_Some nights you are simply as thoughtless, as greedy, as naive, as idiotic as you can be_ _,_

_exactly those nights are the bad habit that I never, ever want to break._

 

And then, he disappeared.

One day to the other, almost soundless. 

Robb was sure it was winter when he last spotted him, because he remembers the cold, but Jon insisted it was almost April. Regardless, Theon disappeared.

He was never there and Robb felt his breath chocked up and cut into little dice. He got burned to the core and tired down by waiting for him to be back.

He tried to date, of course: the pretty brother of a pretty friend of Sansa, great hair and big smile, but he didn't taste like Theon, a friend of Jon's who one day just made out with him from nothing, beautiful and sweet, but he didn't feel like Theon, an older blond man, sassy and full of complaints, good in bed but he didn't shake him like Theon.

But after a month, two, they'd feel fake. He felt he was cruelly acting, couldn't keep it up.

He fell apart and set them free.

While still holding with his fingers, unable to let go of the only one who did go.

He wished he had a way to wash him away from his body and soul, to scrap the memories of the heartbeats and the ghosts of the touches on his skin.

His throat closed up and his heart clenched at opening again the wound, staring at the shivering red flesh, crying in pain, pleading to stop. But it was so infected and it ran so deep.

Every part inside him had Theon injected and pouring.

Mario glanced at him, worried, “No date tonight?”

“Nah. - he smiled, laughing shy – Tonight I'm going solo...”

Mario blinked, vaguely grossed out.

Robb stared at him, then panicked, “Not in that sense! ...I mean, probably, but not...”

The door opened and Mario turned to look. He went pale.

He looked like he saw a ghost, so Robb turned too, confused and curious.

And he was there.

Some of his hair became white and he looked exhausted – purple swollen bags under the eyes, now they were not laughing anymore, but they were still dark, sinking sands – and way skinnier. 

Robb was not sure how he was standing, that surly was not healthy. At all.

He looked like a mess.

And still, he still was the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

Robb swallowed and Theon gave a metallic sour laugh, shaking his head.

And Robb knew he misunderstood, that he thought of him as the winner, who'd find him again and not desire him.

But he was wrong.

As wrong as one could be.

And when Theon went towards his usual table, that was when Robb stood up and held him by the elbow and pulled him close, making him turn.

And he should have probably not said anything, not given away how weak and how mesmerized he still was. But then, there he was, staring deep into Theon's eyes, than having his glance fall on his lips.

He had a scar at the side of the bottom one, a deep one, half hidden by the stubble, but not one that can be made per chance.

And worry mixed with desire and his wish to pull him down and have him again.

“Wh-”

He tried to speak but his voice failed him.

Perhaps, he was not sure he was there for real.

Theon smirked, he looked cocky, but also so tired, “Blue eyes, pretty as always.”

Robb is about to say something but his eyes fell on a big scar, similar to a hold cicatrized poorly, at the base of his neck, where it'd melt in the shoulders.

How many times had he kissed him there?

How many times had he pushed his hand there and pressed, making him blissful?

How many times had he sucked and bitten, leaving a necklace of purple around that flesh, burning eager, shaking in greedy moans?

“What? - Theon snorted – You wish you could say the same?”

Robb frowned, then burst, “I missed you.”

Theon blinked, confused, unsure of how to even decode that.

“You missed me? - he looked diverted, yet, somehow taken over – How come? Lonely?”

“Perhaps... - Robb's hand moved and held his hand – I can't explain, but, look... will you... can I offer you a drink?”

“Seriously?”, Theon almost snorted, but his eyes were sad and cold.

Robb grinned, foretasting the yes.

“I am sorta begging for it, so...”

Theon sucked his lips, biting it slightly.

And in that moment, Robb didn't even remember the scar.

 

*

 

Things that break in the darkness stay in shattered pieces, they say.

But things that break in daylight, do those get fixed?

Too many times he never saw that. Believing it was all about witnesses and people being there and ready to help, that was laughable to him.

Nobody would have helped.

Nobody, but R obb, somehow.

And he never asked why nor how, and how fucking deep in a drug dealing thing you must end up to have a man hang you to a butcher’s hook and break your arm and cut you around for fun.

Theon never felt the need to tell the details.

Details bring memories, they fuck you up with nausea, they sink under your skin and after years they burn all the same.

He still puked when staring at his shoulder.

How do you explain that to a person?

That you were broken and taken and used and your pride and your strength are all lies, an armour that holds together nothing.

He was the void, he was weak.

Always had been.

But when it's sex, the weak one can seem strong.

When it's about fucking, you rise up above the waves and the whirlpool of the undertow with a little bit of acting and a good face.

He didn't imagine someone would care.

And Robb, out of everyone – that idealistic romantic kid, whom he'd kissed the soul of and chopped it off carelessly.

Theon thought the softest people where the ones with a harder time forgiving, but he figured now, maybe it was his way to justify his fear of them. Or maybe Robb was that special, probable, but the idea scared him.

Oh, love be merciful of him, this time he was lost.

This time, under the kisses, he was the one shaking more and more craving them, with his hands trembling in lust.

Robb kissed his forehead, holding him from behind.

“Maybe we should buy a bed...”, he laughed into his ear.

Theon smiled without being seen and caressed the soft fabric, “I like this sofa. It holds memories.”

“Of whom? - Robb blurted out, trying not to seem as offended and jealous as he was – Kyra?”

Theon turned to him, lips curled up in a feline smile.

“You, idiot.”

“Oh.”

Theon laughed, “Yes, oh.”

Robb kissed Theon's ear and pulled him close, burying his nose against his neck and smelling his scent, inebriated by it.

“ _Oh_.”

“Me too.”, Theon mumbled, kissing his forehead quickly.

 

*

 

Jon still doesn't totally like him nor trust him, for the matter, but he never saw Robb smiling so much and so wide.

Sam held him tight and whisper in his hear, “They are cute, stop worrying.” 

And Jon nodded, kissing his boyfriend and feeling a comforting relief.

“He deserved the best, you know.”

Sam snorted, “The best is what one wants. - a smile – Remember when we started dating and nobody could stop asking who had the bigger boobs between me and Ygritte and if you weren't feeling like you were stopping too low?”

“Those were jerks! - Jon blurted out – You are the most handso...”

Sam shook his head, “To you. And to him, that's him. Let them be, momma bear.”

Jon sighed, rolled his eyes, hating how the other was always right.

He looked again. He noticed that, while Robb's was brighter and wider, they were smiling the same way, eye into the eye of the other.

Like looking at the other was like looking into paradise.

Love was weird: it made everyone look the same way.

 

*

 

“Blue eyes.”, he mumbled, kissing his ear.

Robb showed him a smile, moving his hand to hold his, without stopping looking in front of him.

“Yes?”

“Where are we going? - he asked, amused, tempted – You are playing all mysterious. I like my dorks transparent.”

Robb seemed to get flustered, he gave a low laugh and put his hand back on the wheel, before scratching his nape with the other one, embarrassed.

“It's a surprise, okay?”

“I loathe surprises!”, he protested.

“Control freak. - Robb mocked, then his voice got soft and dark – It's... it's just a little thing, that's all.”

Theon promised to be quiet and looked out of the window, unable to distinguish anything almost between the fast car and the darkness.

But then he heard it.

The sound of the waves.

He turned to Robb as he parked, and was about to say something, but it didn't matter at all – Theon shut him up, pulling his face on his own, pressing against his mouth and tasting him. Robb's muffled groans gave him shivers and invited him to continue, while the other started unbuttoning his shirt, placing kisses on his steaming ribcage, sucking his nipples, tormenting his spine.

Theon arched his head back, hair falling behind, his Adam's apple jolting up and down as Robb's hand went on his cock and jerked it, fast, holding his shaft, rubbing with the thumb on the tip.

Theon chocked over the sensation of warmth taking over.

When he jerked back, twisting in pleasure, he hit the car horn, making them both jump.

Robb stared at him, confused.

“Ah, we don't have much spa...”

“Do you want to go on the beach?”, Theon suggested.

Robb blinked, not against the idea, “Thought you hated it.”

“It's fine. - he smiled, smirked, then bit Robb's bottom lip, pulling it and letting it go ever so slowly – I want you.”

“If the wind is right, we may smell gasoline.”

“You are the only creature that can make that sound romantic.”, Theon observed, kissing him again, this time softly.

Theon's eyes shone wicked, naughty, his grin became sharp and he exited from the car, closing the door behind himself. Robb rolled up behind him, following, eager, then jumped on him from behind, throwing him in the sand.

“Hello.”

“It's you.”

“It's me.”, Robb nodded, kissing him.

Theon pulled him close, “Dork.”

Robb's hand returned to his engorged cock, rubbing its throbbing flesh, the reddened tip begging for attention. Robb himself was hard, his arousal pressing against his high buttoned up jeans; he searched for Theon feverishly hungry, not satisfied with any little portion of inches between their bodies touching – the flannel red shirt in the way of their chest finding each other annoyed him and he tore a couple of buttons away, taking it off. Theon took away what remained of his clothes too and Robb placed kisses on his hips and groin, pressing and sucking on the lagoon created between his bones and the tensed skin.

Theon got a bit of his weight back and now Robb could kiss him ferociously, voracious again, without stopping, almost fearful of breaking him.

Theon laughed, happy, as he felt his tongue passing over his bellybutton, then he moaned out loud, catching also himself by surprise by feeling good. Robb went to his inner thighs and sucked them purple, raised them and prepared him, slowly, one finger at a time, at the slowed silky pace of the waves.

Robb stared at Theon, shivering under him, every bite or lick sending shivers through all his body – spine to veins to fingertips – enraptured in bliss, withering like prey of a bacchanalia fever, he'd shiver and squirm, his cock hard as wood, dripping pre-cum.

Robb licked his lips, enjoying the taste of receiving such an unravelling, melting reaction.

He took Theon's arousal in his mouth, sucking the tip, circling the head with his tongue as to court it or cup it, passing it on the slid on top of it, then sucking again, while his fingers would turn and twist inside Theon's hot flesh, pressing his sweet spot and sending him jolts of white.

Theon came with a shout, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

He was still panting, struggling to get back his breath as Robb entered into him, pulling him open and sinking into him with a deep thrust.

Robb held him by the hips, burying himself into him, fast, rough, hard – every slam, Theon would shake, almost scoot and the wind would take away to the sea wet scorching moans.

Theon shivered, tensed up, then moved up, almost sitting, and pushed himself against Robb, letting him deeper inside. He tied his legs behind Robb in a cross and started riding him, making sure to rub his prostate and then swallow the whole length up in his ass, skin burning in need and haste.

Urge burnt through him.

Robb passed his hands behind Theon, keeping his back up and, as Theon's movements started becoming slower, erratic, more difficult, with arousal kicking in more and more, making it hard for him to manage, he'd slam in again too, stronger and now with less effort he'd sink more and rougher.

Theon closed his eyes, enjoying it at its fullest, edges crossed and brinks ignored.

He could feel the size pulling him apart.

Robb thrust, hitting and making him come again, while still in, big, tearing him now with every jolt, making his oversensitive skin brim in pleasure.

He'd come again, dry, like embers burning after a fire, and yet stronger, unexpected, falling over Robb, who'd thrust in again, drowning in that blissful hole, amazed, needy for the incredible heat of feeling all of Theon all around him.

He held him tight, kissed his neck, his ears, inebriated of his moans, as still, smouldering and soaked, would roll out of his lips, like drunk slurs imbued with lust and love.

Robb came in a growl and Theon smiled against his neck, feeling that weird happiness he started to know just since he returned, of feeling marked, almost branded inside, knowing Robb came into him.

They'd rest there hours, the whole night, Theon with his head on Robb's shoulders, making sassy comments about some poor unfortunate soul, Robb staring at him like he never saw anything as sweet or tasted anything as bright.

The stars danced over their heads, the sea brought to them salt and gasoline and the memories of days spent biting and kissing, pretending one kiss was enough, while craving thousands more and finishing off in a greedy hungry fuck.

“I missed you so...”, Robb admitted.

Theon sighed, “Weirdo.”

“Not a weirdo.”

“Wei-irdo.”, Theon mocked him, humming.

Robb sighed and groaned, “Is it so crazy to you to think people may love you?”

Theon at first didn't reply, because he knew Robb wouldn't have liked the answer, then sighed. And Robb frowned and stared at him, questioning.

“Is it?”, he insisted.

“Sometimes... - Theon's hand caressed Robb's jaw, sadly – Sometimes I feel like I am a bad habit you should quit.”

Robb grabbed him by the waist and pulled him in for a kiss.

“You are the one I never want to quit.”

Theon didn't seem to be able to understand why someone would do that, he shook his head then gave a smirked laugh, “Why?”

Robb was not sure how to reply to that.

He looked at the night, shimmering quiet, blue in its smell and taste even before and more vividly than in its colors.

He thought of that first look that had him nailed on that guy forever.

“You make me feel alive.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Italian song "Certe Notti" (Some nights) by Ligabue, which you find the lyrics at the start of every part. I want to thank Janie_Tangerine for the help with the translation and the inspiration! Also Robb is singing Human Touch by Bruce Springsteen thanks to her :D   
> Also this is dedicated to my wife because, you knowwww, Lovers day *heart*


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